Mistaken Loneliness
by neonnchrome1123
Summary: Mimi sees it coming before they do, but will it destroy her before it even happens? Eventual MR. Rated T for language and a little sexual stuff.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't exactly know how long this is going to last, but it started out as a one-shot. Hopefully it will be relatively long but I'm not promising anything. Hope you guys like it!

Summary: Mimi sees it coming before they do, but will it destroy her before it even happens? M/R

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Mimi loved Roger. She loved every single part of his body. His eyes, his hair, his nose, his lips, his legs, his feet, his hands. She loved listening to his straining, coarse voice run through her ears as he plucked at his guitar and belted out a tune. She loved lying in bed with him after sex. She loved staring deeply into his olive green eyes before meeting with his lips. She loved watching him sleep, write songs, sit awake in bed humming, and even shave. She loved the way he would lick his lips after every conversation almost as if to start anew. But the one thing she didn't love about Roger was Mark.

For as long as Mimi knew Roger, Mark had been there. Right there. He pressured Roger to pursue her, to stay strong, to get through drugs, to move on, to get over the HIV. Mark could do all that Mimi wanted to, but was never able to. He was Roger's rock, his constant. Even the slightest fluctuation and Roger wasn't able to handle anything. He was dependent on Mark completely, and with every passing moment this was becoming more evident. Mimi witnessed little things all the time. Little things Mark and Roger paid no attention to. Little things that weren't there if you didn't look for them.

First there was the way Roger's eyes would light up whenever Mark was mentioned or whenever he entered a room. The way Mark would shove his camera in Roger's face every chance he got, just to see him smirk shyly into the lens. The way Roger would protect Mark from drugs and sex, lending advice from his glory days whenever Mark was willing to take it. The way Mark would frown whenever he witnessed affection between Roger and Mimi. Or even the quietly mumbled moans of Mark's name in Roger's sleep. They were all signs of something. An affair. Fucking. Lust. Wanting. Pining. But it couldn't be love. Mimi loved Roger, and surely Roger loved Mimi.

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"Maybe you should just go. I'll stay back at the loft." Roger brushes his hair quickly away from his forehead, letting the wind carry it back and out of his sight. My eyes roll softly around the frame of his body, noticing the holes in his jeans becoming more evident and larger too. I sigh, frustrated, and meet his gaze with mine.

"But I thought we were going to do this together. Have a good time. Just us." I intentionally purse my lips in a pout, wrapping my thin arms around his muscular form.

"I…I'm just tired Mimi. We hung out last night. Can't you just go? I know you'll have more fun without me." He leans back and away from me, using his fingers to pry mine off of his arms. My mouth opens in betrayal as I stare dazedly at his actions.

"I always have fun with you, Rog. But I guess you don't have to go if you're tired…I…fine. Just go have fun with Mark." I scoff, moving quickly away from him and almost running down the street. I don't want to make it seem like I'm trying to get away from him, but I think that's how it came off. He leaves me so often these days, I'm just sick of having fun by myself. I'm sick of meeting strangers, and being inches away from bringing them home with me. Every time I find a willing guy, someone wanting to just fuck me with no attachment, I want to cheat. I want to do drugs. I want to do it all. All that I promised Roger I would never do again. But his distance is killing me slowly. I know that something is wrong, something is up, but part of me never wants to find out what it really is. I have a feeling that if I do, I won't like it much.

Before I know it I'm all dressed up, ready for work. I didn't think I'd go tonight, skip just to do something with Roger, but now I'm all ready. I might as well go. When I got home, I just slipped on my boots and prepared, and now I have no place else to go but work. I know that if I do go out without Roger, I will just end up cheating on him. Maybe I'll head to the loft and see what he's up to. Do I really want to interrupt a loving conversation between Mark and Roger?

I walk slowly up the steps, regretting every shuffle of my feet before it even happens. This is a huge mistake. They don't want me there. Obviously Roger wants to spend time with Mark. Or maybe I'm just exaggerating this entire situation. Maybe Roger really does love me, and this thing with Mark is all in my head. Maybe Roger is just good friends with Mark, displaying loving signs of things that are barely there. Maybe it's all in my head. Just maybe.

My hand taps on the metal of the door, echoing quietly as my spiky boots shift beneath me. The door opens to reveal Roger in jeans and an open shirt, his hair mussed up and his eyes cloudy with sleep.

"Hey…Meems? What are you doing here?" He mumbles, as I see Mark groggily saunter behind him in the loft. Mark rubs his eyes wearily, and I immediately assume they were asleep…together. But that couldn't be true.

"I…uh…I just came to see you. I thought maybe I'd stay in tonight since I don't have anyone to go out with anyways." A smile plays across my lips, and Roger nods, reaching out his hand to lie on my shoulder. Carefully he lures me into his home, leading me aimlessly to the bedroom and yawning loudly beside me.

"Can we just take a nap? I'm…so tired." Another yawn opens his light pink lips, but he does nothing to cover it up. Apparently around me he doesn't have to be that polite.

"Hey, are you going back to bed?" Mark's small voice comes from the other side of the room, and I turn to see his messy blond hair staring at both of us.

"Yea. Why?" Roger squints in Mark's direction, itching his naked chest and stretching his arms far over his head.

"Did you take your AZT? You haven't eaten anything in a while either." Mark begins to talk to himself, murmuring complaints about his roommate as Roger scoffs and heads towards the bathroom.

"No, I didn't take it but I'll do it right now…_mother_." Roger's voice lowers on his last word, but the expression on Mark's face makes it evident that he heard him clearly. I smile kindly at Mark, even though it's really in frustration, as I re-direct my gaze towards semi-unconscious Roger.

"I'll be in the bedroom Rog." I say rather loudly, hearing an audible moan come from the washroom. My hands leisurely place my jacket on the couch, and I head for Roger's room, when a hand stops me. My eyes land on Mark's fingers gripping tightly to my shoulder, pulling me cautiously backwards. "Hmm?" I ask, seeing Mark's eyes glance hastily between me and the bathroom door.

"I just wanted to know if Roger's been all right lately? I haven't seen him much, and I know…he's been with you. I just…is he doing fine? Eating…and…his…" One of my small bony fingers reaches out to Mark's lips, stopping him mid sentence. I smirk at his motherly love for the musician and secretly loathe him for caring about Roger so much.

"He's fine. He has been eating more than I've seen him in months. He's just been a little distant lately. Although…" Roger hops out of the bathroom, his shirt now completely removed and his eyes sprung wide open. He smiles lovingly at Mark, one he receives back, and stands beside us contently. "…I think I might know why that is." My hand moves over to Rogers, grasping his fingers quickly between mine and trying desperately to pull him towards his room.

"Mimi, on second thought I'm not really that tired. The AZT got to me. We should just stay out here and hang out with Mark." His eyes never leave Mark's gaze, and I find myself lost in the midst of their staring. I feel so inferior to them, looking up weakly as they share eye contact, just holding Roger's hand in my own small, meager one. His calloused fingers rub unknowingly across my olive skin, sending shivers across my body, but only because I miss his touch so much.

"I guess." I answer minutes later, after witnessing Mark breaking the staring charade and sitting down comfortably on the couch. Roger wraps his arms loosely around my waist, burying his face in my hair and sighing peacefully.

"So…what exactly are we going to _do_ here?" Mark ponders, raising his eyebrow at Roger in expectance for an answer. Roger leans his body into mine, pushing his stomach securely against my back. I hear him hum in wonderment, and then myself think of an idea.

"We could play truth or dare." I spurt out, even though I'm not so sure it's the best idea. But maybe…just maybe I can force them to tell secrets about themselves. Secrets that I might have known before them.

"Uhh…I guess." Roger says, taking his place next to Mark on the couch, and leaving me the chair to sit in. Mark sprawls his legs in front of him, his spastic fingers moving continuously across his thighs. Roger brings his legs to a crossed position up on the couch, and I tightly hug my knees to my chest.

"I'll start." I volunteer, knowing that I have to take this slowly, otherwise they might suspect I'm suspicious of something. "All right. Mark. Truth or dare?" As soon as the question comes out of my mouth, Mark's eyes roll.

"Come on, can't we just talk or something? This is like a high school game." Mark whines, and Roger playfully pushes him on the arm.

"Shut up Mark, just pick. Don't be afraid just because you know you're going to lose." Roger smiles and a confused look overtakes Mark's pale white face.

"You can't lose at Truth or Dare, Roger. You just answer questions. I'm just saying that I don't want to have to do some dumb dare." Mark unwittingly uses his hands when he speaks, and I realize that I could watch his hand movements for hours on end. It's so entertaining. Then again, maybe I'm just trying to distract myself while an immature fight takes place. I sigh loudly and brush an ash colored piece of hair out of my face.

"Then pick truth! Jesus!" Roger loses his temper, raising his voice and prompting Mark to shrug back against the armrest of the couch. Suddenly, I'm not in the mood to play this game anymore.

"You know what guys? This was a stupid idea. I don't really have any questions I want to ask anyways." I let my legs drop away from me, allowing my feet to hit the ground. Roger follows my actions with his droopy green eyes, and I smile falsely towards him.

"Come on Mimi, there has to be something you want to know. What is it?" Roger grabs my tiny wrist between his fingers, and I close my eyes in frustration. Should I just ask?

"It's nothing. I mean…there is nothing. I don't need to know anything." I stumble on my words, most likely making my explanation less believable. Sure enough, Roger lifts off of the couch and tugs me into his body.

"Mimi, you know you want to ask me. Just do…it." His lips connect with the covered skin of my neck, hair intruding every which way, but I can still feel him. I still feel the warmth of his mouth, his breath reigning over me.

"Well…" I tease him, lightly pushing his head onto my shoulder, pressuring his mouth to open and his tongue to slide slickly across my bone. "Maybe there is…something." He smirks against the nape of my neck, his teeth now clawing at my skin and no doubt leaving obvious markings.

"What…is…it?" He whispers in my ear, licking the rim and kissing it quickly afterwards. I sink into his touch, until I remember that Mark is viewing this entire thing. It's not just Roger and I alone, but Mark is there too. I look over to see him sitting, arms crossed on the couch, trying his best to keep us out of his gaze.

"Mark…sorry. Roger's being a prick." I knock Roger on the chest, pushing him away and slumping back down to my chair.

"Nah, s'okay. I was just…admiring the fabric of the couch." Mark picks roughly at the orange, battered seat, as Roger gives up on his quest for my question and places himself back next to his roommate.

"Have either of you ever been with a man?" I say bluntly, watching Mark and Roger's eyes search for a reason for my question. I simply grin, twiddling my thumbs against my flat stomach and awaiting an answer.

"Uhh…I…I haven't." Mark says honestly and nervously, and I nod in acceptance. Roger tries to avoid my eyes, but I'm finally able to catch a glimpse of those dark shining eyes.

"Nope." He says rather inaudibly, while I move onto my next question.

"All right. Have either of you ever _wanted_ to be with a man?" A bigger smile beams across my face as the two boys shift uncomfortably in their seats. They both shake their heads immediately, apparently unable to answer with real words. Then it comes to me. Neither of these boys have problems with sexuality. Then why are they being so awkward about this? I would think that both of them, especially Roger would answer easily and truthfully. But it seems that they are having a hard time even contemplating their thoughts on the matter.

"I should…uh…Mimi we should go to bed now. I'm getting tired…we'll see ya, Mark." Roger flashes a smile briefly in Mark's direction, their eyes catching in a sad and sudden glance. There I can tell. I can tell that one of them wants to say something that they can't.

"All right. Nighty night Marky." I giggle as Roger pulls me to his bedroom for the night, snuggling up against my body and trying to get sleep. I can tell he never actually drifts off after listening to his erratic breathing for the four hours or so I stayed awake. The only thing I could think of was Mark and Roger. Mark and Roger. What were they? What made these two best friends so damn special? What made them so much different than any other two guys out there? Maybe there is truly something I have left to learn.

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Notes: There will be more coming, but who knows when. I hope you liked it! Review! XD


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for such positive feedback on my first chapter! I am really happy that all of you loved Mimi's POV so much! I appreciate every single review, and I have to tell those who asked questions that eventually those questions will be answered. It was all an evil plan of mine to leave some things up in the air. So just be patient and you will be pleased…I hope. XD

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Earlier that day 

I swing open the door, flopping my tired body down on the couch, and awaiting the sound of Mark's voice. I know he'll ask me some sort of question once he notices I'm home, even though most of the time I ignore them. I try not to ignore him, but his incessant wondering about my state of mind. Apparently I'm not allowed to have thoughts without his prying into them.

"Hey." A small voice sneaks up behind me, a pale and bony hand ruffling my hair and forcing my feet over so he can sit next to them.

"Hey Mark." I grunt as my eyes flutter open and closed. Maybe this will give him a clue that I'm in no mood to discuss.

"How was your day? Didn't go out with Mimi?" He leans the back of his head against the armrest of the couch, slumping down so our thighs are parallel. Here he goes with the questions again. But now that I think about it, I don't really mind once he's actually sitting next to me, once we are staring into each other's eyes, once I can feel that he really cares. He's not just trying to make conversation like Mimi does, he's trying to make me feel important.

"Nah, I wanted to come back here. Sleep, talk, ya know." I mumble, my eyes still not under control, and Mark rubs my foot lightly with the tips of his finger.

"Rather spend time sleeping than with your girlfriend? What does that say about your commitment issues?" He shakes my foot gently in his hand, forcing me to snap it from his grip quickly. Maybe I would rather spend time sleeping than with Mimi. Lately I've gotten the feeling that I'm getting tired of putting up with her. All of her drugs, her sex, her constant need for attention. It's all becoming too much. And even though she said she'll stop shooting up, she'll stop cheating, she'll stop ignoring me, I know she never will. It's just who she is. And that's not who I need. I still desperately love her, but I need something different. Someone different.

"Well…I don't know. I mean, lately Mimi has become a little distant." I admit, lifting off of the cushion for a second to resituate then lying back down with a sigh.

"You sure it's not _you_ becoming distant?" His eyebrows raise, the quirk he's never been able to shake, but that I don't mind as much as I say. It brings a certain oddness to Mark that I've grown fond of over the years. It took me a while to get used to his constant finger fumbling and twitches, but I sunk into them soon enough. Now they are just a part of him.

"No it's not me…_smart ass_." I murmur under my breath, closing my eyes for good and letting my mind drift off.

"Hey, don't fall asleep." Mark whines, pushing me until my eyes snap back open.

"What? Why?" I groan, using my hands as leverage to sit up, then crossing my arms across my chest.

"Because…I'll be bored. It's four in the afternoon. I don't feel like sleeping."

"All right. What do you want to do?" I rub my eyes, attempting to wake myself up, but I end up just wanting to keep them shut.

"I don't know. Just talk. You've been spending a lot of time with Mimi, we haven't really talked in a while." His eyes fill with sorrow…maybe something else. He lowers them away from me, and I search my mind for a topic we could discuss.

"What do you want to know? My life story? I think you've got the gist of it by now." My voice is bored, jokes becoming meaningless words.

"Nah, just…wondering how things are with Mimi."

"Fine." I answer quickly and abruptly, most likely making him wonder. But how else am I supposed to answer? Yea, Mark, my relationship is going down the pipes, help!

"Mhmm…" He mumbles, snickering into his hand and smirking widely.

"Don't be so sure you know all that's going on. I don't tell you everything you know." I inform him, examining the piece of fuzz placed on my shoulder before carefully brushing it away and blowing it over the side of the couch.

"You don't?" He looks a little hurt, as if he tells me everything that goes on in his life.

"Nope. Why do you tell me everything?" I pry, almost asking him to tell me everything I don't know. Mark always seems like he has a secret, but most of the time it's just unwritten diary entries. Nothing big and important.

"Well…yea." He admits softly, almost inaudible, but I'm not buying it.

"Bullshit Mark. I have yet to find out where _you _have been all this time I've been "with Mimi". What do you do on lonely nights?" His eyes flicker, the radiant blue shining through his eyelids even when they are shut. I've never really noticed how fucking blue his eyes really are. I guess I've never really paid much attention to his physical features. Other than his brighter than the sun blond hair.

"I don't know. I hang around the loft, shoot stuff on the street. Nothing new." He states, and to my dismay, I can tell he's telling the truth. _Damn._ I was really looking forward to some news.

"Met anyone new lately?" I ask a more detailed question, but he shakes his head immediately. Wow, he must really be bored without me here. I almost feel guilty for leaving him all alone all the time. But now I think I might be spending a little more time at home.

Mark shifts next to me, his feet tickling the side of my hip and brushing against the chain hanging off of my jeans. I look down at him and smile, then repeat the same thing to him.

"Hey, quit it."

"You started it!" I yell playfully at him, kicking gently at his stomach.

"Don't!" He kicks back, this time harder, prompting me to return it with a strike across his shin. "Roger, we're acting like we're in grade school." He chuckles, hitting me back before cringing away from me for safety.

"You're the one who can't sit still." I press down on his foot, making his jitters come to a halt. His toes wriggle between my fingers, and a slight shiver travels down my spine. _What the hell?_ I let go hastily, rubbing a small blush I feel coming away from my cheeks.

"I can too. I was just trying to get comfortable."

"Well now because of your annoying habits, I'm falling asleep. Good riddance." My eyes waver shut, until Mark begins to run his fingers over the edges of my toes. "What are you doing?" I ask nervously, holding back a laugh that would no doubt make both of us uncomfortable. He stops the contact, looking wide-eyed up at me and falsely smiling.

"Oh…sorry." I'm surprised that once his hand lifts off of me, I regret making him stop. It felt nice, to be touched so subtly, so secretively, so _intimately_. Mimi seems to only touch me when she wants something. And most of the time that's sex. But Mark was just doing it out of boredom.

"It's all right." I nod towards him, possibly telling him to continue. Sure enough, his fingers land back against my covered foot, weaving over each of my toes gently. The touch comforts me, allowing me to relax, shut my eyes, and slowly fall asleep.

A harsh knock comes from outside the door, and I'm thrown awake by the noise. _Jesus_. Who is here? It's almost…oh. It's only six. My body shifts violently on the couch, trying to force myself from the comfortable position to answer the door, when I realize that something is blocking me from leaving. My eyelids flip open wearily to discover Mark's unconscious form beside me, and a blanket covering my tired body. _What the hell happened?_ _Mark and I were…_Oh.

The afternoon of foot rubs comes back to mind, and I reluctantly push away from him to go answer the irritating pounding. The door slides open to reveal Mimi, all dressed up for work, sans her coat. Great.

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I can tell Roger's asleep, his erratic breathing becoming slow and gentle, moving his chest rhythmically with each exhale and inhale. For a while I'm occupied with just this, regarding his chest as it rises and falls, air filling and air disappearing. The past few months all I've done is watch Roger. Watch from the sidelines. Watch as he fell into love with Mimi, watched as he slowly became someone different, as he let go of his past and finally let someone new into his heart. I watched as he unintentionally broke my heart, by finding someone new to love. Someone who isn't me.

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**That night**

"I'm so tired…" I sigh against Roger's chest, running my thin fingers slowly over his bellybutton. His naked torso lies underneath my skinny frame, lifting me gently with every breath.

"Me too." He murmurs, his voice slow and fatigued. I don't know how he can still be tired after just having woken up. The moonlight seems early, seeing as it's only seven and it's shining as brightly as ever. I almost wish I could see the stars. Damn New York City. "Mimi…" He whispers in my ear, and I groan into his neck before answering.

"Yea?"

"Are we all right?" He asks, taking me by surprise, and forcing me to sit up to face him. His eyes are still closed, and apparently I've taken his question more seriously than he meant it.

"What do you mean?" I lay my hand on his bare chest, pressing lightly to make sure he knows I'm not about to drift to sleep.

"Well…I was just wondering if there was…anything wrong. You seem to be sort of…sad lately." His silhouette shadows over me, towering compared to my miniscule form.

"I'm not sad. I just…I'm fine. We're fine." I answer quickly, leaning my head against his chest once and again and taking in a deep breath. My nails drag over his leg, careful not to scratch, even though a little part of me would like to leave a mark. He thinks I seem sad? I don't think I am the problem here.

"Okay." He sighs, sounding relieved.

"Goodnight. I love you." I utter, and he moans in comfort.

"Goodnight."

I guess that's the best I'll ever get.

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Notes: Is that okay? A little of everyone? The next chapter will hopefully be completely Mimi POV unless anyone would not prefer that? Just review and tell me! Thanks guys!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here it is! I think around ten days might be the regular timing in between chapters, so get used to it! Thanks for the reviews guys!

So, in this chapter, I decided to give Joanne more lines than just one, like most people do. Because I love Joanne and she deserves some speaking-age.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Mimi's POV

The couch creaks as I situate contentedly in Roger's arms, trying not to pierce him with my spine but find that nook where we are both comfortable. I grasp his hand in mine, tangling our fingers together and smile as I lean back against his chest. I feel happy for just this second. That is until Roger squirms beneath me.

"Do you have to lie on top of me?" He groans, shifting out from under me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"No…" I sigh, lifting completely off of the couch and slipping my body into the chair beside it. Instead of starting a fight, I just let my rage go and begin a new conversation. "So, Mark's birthday party. There are gonna be a lot of people here. You think we should like…fix up the place or something?" I suggest, and he smiles falsely before looking around his home.

"Nah, I think it's fine. Maureen and Joanne are bringing food anyway. Everyone knows how shitty it is." He concludes, shutting his eyes and stretching his legs out across the couch. My eyes roll subconsciously, and for this moment I wish I was home, alone. I'm beginning to get sick of Roger blowing me off.

"Okay." There's a bite in my voice, as I desperately hold back my urge to scream. Scream for no reason, really. He's just being himself, but I'm done withstanding it. I don't know how Mark can take living with this. "Hey, I still haven't bought him a present. Do you wanna go buy one with me? Split it?" My foot taps him gently on the shoulder and his eyes finally open, staring at me with a twinge of anger.

"Umm…no, I already…got him something. But you can go if you want." He gets up and heads to the kitchen, opening the fridge and sticking his head in. My body sits up straight, watching him with pure fury, pure anguish, but somehow pure love. Why do I love him so much? If he annoys me this much, why is there still unconditional love in my heart? I hate that I love him, but then again I'm grateful I'm capable of loving someone so much. I just have a feeling it will hurt me in the end.

"Oh. All right. Well, I guess I'll head out then. I'll see you tomorrow for the party?" My voice is still filled with patience and lightness, trying to get a happy response from him, but it isn't going to happen. Why do I even try? He pops his head out of the fridge with a milk carton in his hand, and then wipes excess liquid away from beneath his mouth.

"Yea. Bye." He hops across the room to reach me, meeting my lips gently, then pressing his body against mine. I sigh when we break, opening my eyes to see his smiling face looking down on me. "I can't wait for tomorrow." He whispers in my ear, then returns to the fridge with the milk carton still glued to his hand.

"Yea…" I exhale briefly, still soaked in bliss from the one tiny kiss I have gotten in a while. This is the reason we are still together. When he does pay me attention, I revel in it for as long as I can. I'm just too needy.

I walk down the street, staring back at the loft every chance I get, wondering what Roger is doing right now. Mark was supposed to be coming home any minute, and although I wanted to stay until he arrived, I found myself needing to leave as soon as I could. I felt trapped in there, like it was a cage I couldn't escape. Something in the back of my mind is telling me the truth, but I won't listen to it. It's the same voice telling me that I need drugs. I just won't listen. Never again.

Then it comes back. What did Roger buy for Mark? He doesn't have any money, that's exactly why I offered to split the price of a present with him. After giving up crack I finally have some extra cash to spend on something other than my daily hit or measly portions of food. I've been saving up to buy him something, and here Roger, who I thought was completely poor, has already gotten something. I have a feeling it's not something big or meaningful, probably just a box of Cap'n Crunch.

Two nights in a row I've had to watch Mark and Roger have a conversation without me. They talk about what Collins said the other day or how the Life rejected Mark again or how they are going to buy food this week. But I'm never apart of it. It's always them. Just them. Just the two of them. Watching Mark talk to Roger is the most bizarre thing in the world. He's not jittery, he doesn't twitch like normal, but instead he's relaxed. He looks directly into Roger's eyes, and seems mesmerized by them. They hold each other's gazes for longer than I ever could, amazing me by the second.

They have something Roger and I don't have. I hate that I don't know what it is. Or maybe I really hate that I do know what it is, I just don't want to admit it.

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"How's the birthday boy?" I pose as soon as I arrive back at the loft, after Maureen and Joanne have already set out food for the guests. All I get is a slight laugh in response, then a roll of the eyes from Mark. Finding a present for Mark took a while, longer than I expected. A part of me hates that Roger probably found a gift easier than I did. Even though he's known Mark for years, the rocker could never find a present for me without asking.

The loft looks nicer than expected, decked up with streamers and a few balloons, and even a cake. It looks like it's for Easter, but still. Someone tried. I guess Roger really did do some cleaning while I was gone. That is until I see Roger lounging on the couch, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes slowly dropping closed. I guess I spoke too soon. Mark sits helpless at the counter, his palm pressed to his chin, as his eyes carefully stalk Maureen and Joanne while they walk through the kitchen, preparing. Every once and a while he steals a glimpse at Roger, raising his eyebrows in a greeting before sighing and offering to help the girls get ready.

"Mark, I told you. You're the birthday boy. You don't have to do an ounce of work." Joanne explains, dumping the remains of the tortilla chips into a cheap bowl and accepting a kiss from Maureen.

"I don't think I like the idea of people calling me that all day long. My birthday has never been a big deal before, I don't know why all of a sudden we've begun celebrating it." He gets up from the uneven stool to place himself next to Roger on the couch. Roger shifts to give him more room, throwing his arm behind Mark's side of the couch and setting his feet on the table in front of him.

"This year we ignored your protest to a party and just threw one without permission." Maureen giggles, searching each and every cabinet for non-existent cups. I slide out of the conversation, occupying Mark's old stool and throwing my waist long hair to flow down my back instead of drape across my shoulders. Maureen and Joanne make a small gesture of love every few seconds, unable to keep their hands off of each other, even in front of me. I watch as the boys get more comfortable on the couch, Mark bringing his legs up to his chest and Roger making fun of him for bending in half so easily. Something I do a lot, but he never comments on. After a while of observing their near-flirtatious behavior, I can't take it anymore.

"Is Collins coming?" I turn my body to face Maureen, blocking Mark and Roger from my sight and concentrating on my question.

"Umm…yea. He should be. I think he said he'd be coming around two. Baby, what time is it now? These boys don't have a fricken' clock." She squints around the apartment, trying to find the time, when Joanne taps her on the shoulder, casually pointing to the watch on Maureen's wrist. The performance artist scoffs with an awkward chuckle, then happily stares at the watch. "She just bought this for me, I kinda forget that I have it on." She explains, while Joanne wraps her arms around the back of her, squeezing tightly and leaving a small lipstick mark on the edge of Maureen's chin.

"It's okay babe. It will take a while to get used to it." Her smile warms up the room, full of love and obvious patience. I would assume after living with Maureen for so long, even the antsiest of people would pick up some patience.

"It's one-thirty." Maureen finally concludes, smirking slightly before she spills some salsa onto her finger. She searches for a napkin, then gives up after a few seconds and licks it away. "Honey, did we bring napkins?"

"Uh…no." Joanne laughs, after looking to the bottom of the brown paper bag they brought with them.

"Great…the one thing people probably need the most." Maureen buries her face in her hands, sighing loudly and leaning her back against the edge of the counter.

"It's okay, Mo. It's not a big deal. We will just throw some toilet paper on the tables." Joanne suggests, and seconds later a small chuckle comes from beneath Maureen's frustration. They embrace briefly and snugly, adding a kiss and then going back to work. I pivot again on my stool, now facing the wall. I can't take much more affection. I'm not getting enough, and whenever I see it, I miss it even more. Maureen and Joanne are so in love, even though they do fight constantly, there is still apparent adoration there. Roger and I just fight. We are losing the cuteness I can still see in these two women. I think that's what I miss the most. Just the little things he used to do that have somehow disappeared from our relationship.

Two hours into the party, I'm already left alone. Collins stayed to talk to me for a little while, then disappeared into the crowd. Everyone else has someone to talk to. Usually I would be chatting it up with strangers, flirting and touching, but somehow I've managed to stay invisible. For about a half an hour I sat next to Roger, in between him and Mark, my legs slung across Roger's thighs. He shifted uncomfortably beneath me constantly, practically asking for me to leave. I listened to Mark and Roger talk to only each other, completely ignoring all other conversations around them, no matter how absurd or inappropriate. I don't know how the hell they can still talk after so many years of being friends. But I guess I have to admire that. Or envy it.

Once I left the couch after being squished between the two boys, I ran over to see if Maureen and Joanne needed help with the food, offering a hand in the kitchen anyway I could. Even though they said I could some things, I quickly got bored, leaving me with nothing to do once again. I notice Roger standing in the corner, drinking some sort of red concoction, and slowly migrate over to him.

"You having fun?" I tap him lightly on the arm, stroking my fingers back and forth to capture his undivided attention. But instead he slowly shrugs away, gulping down liquid and finishing off whatever drink his cup was filled with.

"I guess. There's no one really interesting here. 'Cept…M…you guys." He catches himself, even though that was the reaction I intended to hear. I would have thought he would say that Mark is the only thing keeping this party alive or, Mark is the only one he can have fun with. I guess he does have some sense of decency towards my feelings.

"Well…I think we are opening presents soon." I smile, trying to get him to follow, but he doesn't prevail.

"Great. I'm starting to think that the present I got him is shitty." He mopes, frowning more than I've ever seen him. He looks genuinely disappointed because apparently he can't please Mark.

"I'm sure it's great. What did you get him?" My eyebrows raise and he stares at me, opens his mouth, and is interrupted by Maureen's extremely audible screech.

"PRESENTS!" She yells at the top of her lungs, unfortunately only about ten feet from where Roger and I are standing. Roger smiles sadly at me, before running off to lunge at the spot next to Mark on the couch. Mark laughs at his rush, then grabs the first present off of the table.

Mark opens all of the beautifully wrapped gifts, tearing off the paper very carefully to save, even though he will probably never use it. When he gets to mine he looks intrigued, as does the rest of the party, when he reveals the tiny box of assorted chocolates. His eyes bug out, his mouth open with hunger, as he sets it aside with anticipation. The notebook that accompanies it is almost thrown aside with a brief "thank you", but at least I know he liked half of the present. At last the table is empty, and Mark rubs his palms against his thighs, smiling and thanking everyone politely. But I'm still waiting for Roger to pull out a spectacular gift. After a few seconds, Maureen looks ready to cut the cake, when Joanne sits up straight in her seat.

"Wait honey, I don't think that Roger gave Mark his gift yet." She states, pushing gently on Roger's knee and prompting Mark to sit back in waiting.

"Do you have something?" Mark asks innocently, wrinkling his forehead and gazing at Roger.

"Uhh…yea." Roger hesitates, looking around at the entire room full of people. Everyone seems to hold their breath as there is a deafening silence, waiting for Roger to show his gift. "Well…I didn't have any money. And, I wanted to get you something important, but I couldn't really think of anything. So I thought of something that is important to me, and I hope you like it." He speaks as he reaches around his neck, unhitching his chain link necklace and brushing his hair back down against the backside of his head. "It's a little shitty since it's so old…" He immediately stretches his arms out to Mark's neck, wrapping the necklace around it. Mark grips at it with his fingers, weaving through a loop and looking down at it with a tiny blush touching his face. "Sorry I couldn't get you something better." Roger sighs, itching the back of his neck then furrowing his brow. He looks nervous, afraid that Mark won't like it. But I can tell he really cares. Something that hurts me tremendously.

"I…it's perfect." Mark stutters, closing his eyes and keeping his hand glued to the new necklace.

"Good." Roger says simply, beaming with pride.

"You two boys are the cutest." Collins mocks, throwing everyone into a fit of laughter except me. I just stare. Stare at a future of pain. A future of fighting. A future of loneliness. A future that they don't even know exists.

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Notes: I am again sorry for such a long wait in updates but I was going to have this much longer, but then I decided to split it up. So more cuteness later! I hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm so sorry for the lack of updating but I have been swamped in homework because of the last week of school. Thank you guys for the reviews and your patience!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV

Mark keeps his hand clinging to his neck as if some serial strangler is loose in our loft. Every so often I see him look down and smile softly, and it makes me feel proud. Proud that even after the chocolate, the film, and the fifty bucks in cash he received, that he is still beaming because of my pathetic gift.

After Collins' comment and Mark's reaction, I'm actually sort of glad I didn't give him my original gift. Yet. I'm still wondering if I should give it to him, or if that's a little too much. I guess I'll find out soon.

Mimi stares sadly at us on the couch, her arms across her chest, her leggings sliding up occasionally to her bony knees. I never really noticed how skinny she has become in the past few weeks. She's shaking somewhat, and sometimes I see her cough lightly into her fist. After Christmas I knew she didn't have much time, but it's only been a month and a half. I guess I wished for a year, even though I knew that was completely unreasonable. Those seconds that I thought she was actually dead, taken away forever, were probably the most lost I had felt in a long time. Now that feeling is starting to slowly resurface.

The look on Mimi's face is full of sorrow, like she is watching someone die on my couch. But all we are doing is sitting. Sitting and barely talking. But she continues to glare. She's almost burning me with her eyes.

I turn to Mark for a more comforting look, and all I get is one of thanks. He smiles gleefully at me, continuing to grip the necklace between his pale fingers. I smile back at him, and practically send myself into a fit of happiness. Why is pleasing Mark making me so damn giddy? It must be because I beat out all of the other meaningful presents with one that is a hundred years old and soaked in my own sweat. But that necklace means something to me. I bought it before everything happened. Before April. Before drugs. Before my band hit it "big". Before my life became so chaotic I could hardly keep track of the time. But not before I met Mark.

I don't really remember of much before I met Mark. Sure I remember my childhood, my parents, creating my band, but my most vivid past memories all have Mark in them. Meeting him, getting to know him, moving in with him, watching him buy his first real camera, and traveling through all of this emotional shit with him. Mark has been such a center in my life, it's hard to think of life without him. I just hope I won't ever have to live that life. But he'll have to live without me. He has other friends, friends he doesn't have to constantly care for. I have a feeling he will be better off without me.

I would have thought that Mimi being close to death would bring us closer together. I realized how much I love her, but something seems to be missing. Something that was there before is suddenly gone. She seems distant. Or maybe I'm the one who's distant. I just know that something's different.

"Mark, you're going to hurt yourself pulling on that thing." Joanne finally comments, and I can't help but smile when a frown appears on Mark's face. He blushes lightly, and I reach over to tap him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. They're just jealous." I assure him, and his blush gets deeper, as he stares down at my hand. I hadn't even noticed that it was still resting on his shoulder. I give him an apologetic look before removing my hand and pressing it to my thigh.

"So, when is everyone going to leave?" Mark asks impatiently, and I can tell he's getting anxious to sleep. He's been yawning all through the party. Last night he barely got any sleep as he stayed up until four drinking coffee and discussing stupid and pointless things with me. That's the first night we've done that in a while, and it felt good. It felt nice to be able to talk to him again, comfortably, after that long bout where there was always something going on. Nothing allowed us time to just sit and talk about nothing that important. And I'm glad to have it again.

"I don't know Marky. They've only been here for two hours." Maureen whines, after the party she organized so perfectly is being insulted. I can see her forehead wrinkle up in anger, as she slouches against Joanne who is seated next to her.

"I'm sorry Mo, I'm just tired. The party is great, thank you." He leans over to kiss her on the forehead, and she smirks innocently while burying her face into Joanne's shoulder. I've never seen her acting so embarrassed for attention. Maybe after all these years, that is still the affect Mark has on her. I certainly hope Joanne hasn't noticed that.

"You should probably get to sleep right after the party." Mimi comments, and I realize that she has slowly crept closer to the group sitting around Mark and I at the couch. I don't know how I didn't see her making her way over here. Everyone else seems sort of surprised, and Mark even jumps when she speaks, causing me to laugh loudly at his fear. He hits me on the chest lightly, and I wink lightheartedly at him.

"I will." He tells Mimi, and she nods, refusing to smile for some reason. Her eyes dart from Mark to me, me to Mark, to Mark's necklace, then back at me. I furrow my brow in confusion, and then attempt to smile at her as if I'm not a little irritated. All she does is advert her eyes from me, staring down at the floor beneath her shifting feet. We all sit in a silence, as if Mimi's presence has stopped our conversation completely. Then Collins notices everyone looking around awkwardly.

"I can't believe you're already twenty-five Mark. It seems like just yesterday you were able to finally drink legally." His wide smile brightens the room, and Mark chuckles softly. It's true; we have all grown so fast. Even though I met Mark when he was twenty, he's changed so much since then. In a way he's found reality, realizing that life is not so perfect after all. It might have made him a little more cynical, but that's the Mark I've grown to appreciate. We've grown together, and I've never really noticed how much. Collins is a few years older, the wiser one in the group, telling us his numerous stories of what he did when he was our age. I can see change in him too, mostly because of Angel. Finding true love really made him into a more mature person, if that was even possible.

Maybe finding love in your life does change you substantially. I know falling in love with April and Mimi changed me a lot. With April, some of those changes were unnecessary, but forget regret. I still feel like I have more to learn. But what else is there?

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Mark's POV (five hours later)

Everyone is still crowded around, cracking jokes, talking about current events that no one really cares about. Most of the party is gone, leaving Joanne, Maureen, Collins, Mimi, Roger and I in a circle around the couch. I can still feel the necklace hitching into the skin on the back of my neck, the warmed up metal carefully hanging down the front of my shirt. Roger eyes it every few minutes, making sure it's still there. Like I would let it fall off.

For some reason this necklace means more to me than anything else I could have gotten. Maybe it's because Roger actually cared when he gave it to me, instead of just stuffing money in an envelope and writing my name on the front of it. It seems more sentimental than chocolate, alcohol or money. A present hasn't been this important to me since Roger helped me pay for my first real camera.

"Mark, you're nodding off." Joanne says, tapping me on the leg and causing me to spring up quickly from my seat. Roger laughs quietly, and I squint angrily in his direction.

"You should go to bed already Mark, I mean you did stay up late last night." Roger tells me, leaning his elbow against the couch then pressing his temple to his palm. I rub my eyes and think about last night. Talking, talking, laughing, drinking coffee, and talking. I don't regret not getting enough sleep.

"Why, what did you do last night?" Mimi asks curiously, her first real words in the past couple hours. Roger looks over to me with a giggle and I smack him across the arm.

"Yea, what did you two _do_ last night?" Collins chuckles, but Mimi's frown grows. Her arms rest across her chest, her body tense and stiff. I can't tell what's wrong with her. She's been acting strangely for a while. There might be problems between her and Roger, I could tell whenever I brought her up last night. He would just avoid it, or say something briefly before changing the topic.

"We just talked the whole night. He wouldn't shut up." I set things straight, smiling innocently at Roger then glancing down at the necklace once again. For some reason I'm paranoid that it will disappear.

"Well you should get some sleep." Mimi suggests again, and I take a second to say goodnight before rising off of the couch. Obviously Mimi doesn't want me there. I have no clue why, or what I did, but I won't fight her about it. Roger frowns when I leave, tapping my foot lightly as a goodbye.

I head to the bathroom, splashing water on my face and drying it off carefully before placing my glasses back on. I stare into the mirror for a while, studying my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Suddenly the thought of a girlfriend comes to mind. Am I really unattractive? Maureen didn't think so, so why am I single now? I don't really care all _that_ much that I'm without a companion, but I'm getting tired of pleasuring myself all the time. But there's a comfort that comes with sex that I also miss. Just the security, the love. I haven't had that intimacy in a while.

Roger is at the counter when I come back out, after having finally gotten up from the couch.

"Finally got up?" I ask with a smile, and he nods before taking a chug of his coffee.

"Yea, they were annoying me with their boring conversations. Plus I had to do something." He takes another drink, eyebrows raised and a curious smirk on his face.

"All right…Well goodnight. I'll see ya tomorrow." I wave slightly towards him and he swallows quickly.

"Yea, goodnight. Oh, and happy birthday." He leans against the counter and stares carefully at me.

"Thanks." I blush only a little for no reason whatsoever, or no reason I am aware of, then head towards my bedroom.

I go straight to bed, and throwing myself onto it. I relax my body, letting it sink into the mattress, then realize there is something occupying my pillow. I lift my head up and pick it up between my fingers, and recognize it to be a picture. The moonlight is bright, and I quickly move over to my window to get a better view of the picture. Light beams down on it, and I see a young Roger and I. We're smiling gleefully, as I hold my camera up for Collins to take the picture of. Roger's hair is blond and spiked, stubble growing across his face, and his old necklace resting against his neck. I look pretty much the same, but naïve, a light in my eyes that has long diminished.

I flip the picture over and see words, and tip it slowly to make out what it says. Roger's scribbling is in blue pen, and I smile when I see the inscription.

"Here's your real present. Thanks for those days. Happy Birthday. Love, Roger."

I read it over and over, trying to make a note of our faces, remembering how happy I was on that day, and how much I've changed internally.

I lie back down on the bed, slipping the picture under my pillow and gripping the necklace between my fingers. I think it's safe to say this is the best birthday I've ever had.

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Notes: I hope you liked it, and I'm sorry again for the wait. I promise it won't be so long next time. Review? I'll love you! XD Thanks guys!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Okay, do not kill me. I did not forget about this story, nor am I giving up on it. I love this story, but with computer trouble and a new live journal community, it's a little hard to update these days. I'm so sorry and I completely understand if you hate me. Maybe this will make up? Love to all reviewers!

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

We sit silently on the couch, staring out into space. I feel my necklace wrapped tightly around my pale neck, pinching my skin subtly, but I appreciate that it's there. Every time I come into the room when Roger is there he glances at it, almost to remind me that it was his gift. He wants me to remember forever, and I don't know how I'd ever forget.

Roger takes a drink out of the plastic cup of water sitting in front of us, the one that we have been sharing since we don't really feel like doing the dishes swishing liquid throughout his mouth almost as if to savor the feeling of not being thirsty. He sighs and leans back against the couch, smiling sadly over at me and then furrowing his brow.

"I'm thinking about starting the band up again. You know, calling the guys to see if they'd want to?" He seems giddy at the prospect of playing in a band again, being famous, singing on stage in crowded clubs and bars. But maybe things have changed. Maybe this time he doesn't want all the attention from girls and even guys. Maybe this time he just wants to write music again. To sing with his band again. He wants that rush that came with performing again.

He's not the same person. That person who would try any new drug he got his hands on, until he found heroin. That person who would fuck any crazed fan that he set his eyes on, until he found April. That person who wouldn't let anyone help him, until he found me. But I wasn't the one who changed him. Evidently he couldn't be changed until Mimi came along.

Mimi surfaced in Roger's life and everything changed. He got out of the loft, he opened up, and he was able to let go of all that was holding him back. I could see him change. He was always talking, always worrying, always suspicious. But he would never mention it to Mimi. After Roger came home after a night with the dancer I would get an earful about what guy she was flirting with or how much drinking she had done. But I listened. And maybe that's why he never told Mimi what he felt. Because I was always there first. To listen.

With his comment we sit in silence for a while, gaping at the door as if someone is about to burst in at any second. Then I finally decide I should probably respond to his idea. After all it's Roger. He needs some kind of an appraisal.

"Yeah…sure. You always did have fun with them." I grasp the cup out of his hand, taking a small sip and swallowing it with a huge gulp. I can feel a lump in my throat, those kind of wet bumps that stick and make you even thirstier than you are. He nods dazedly next to me, letting his eyes fall with every drop of his head.

"All right. Maybe I'll talk to Mimi first? See if it's okay?" I turn my head sharply and wrinkle my forehead. Why would Roger need Mimi's consent? It's his band, and she's not his mother. Roger never asked me to grant him permission before Mimi came along.

"What do you mean? Why would she care?" I have a feeling that came out meaner than I meant it to sound, but Roger doesn't really notice either way. Instead he snatches the cup right back out of my hand, pressing his lips harshly to the rim and finishing off the water. He wipes the liquid away from his lip with the sleeve of his t-shirt before proceeding to smile proudly at me. I punch him in the shoulder and make my way over to the faucet to re-fill it.

"She cares because she's my girlfriend. Plus being in the band again would take up a lot of my time. I don't want to ignore her like I did with April...sometimes." The water overflows in the cup, spilling onto my hand and prompting a light wince. I wasn't even watching. I wipe it away with a stray napkin from some restaurant Joanne treated us to, then head back to the couch.

"You never really ignored April. Her and I just got to see a lot more of you onstage than off." I throw my body next to his, refusing his hand when he reaches for the full cup.

"Well what if we hit it big this time? I don't want to be one of those boyfriends who only talks to their girlfriend over the phone." He continues to stare at nothing, avoiding my eyes while he continues to keep focus on his thoughts.

"I guess." I mumble, twiddling my thumbs on my lap. "Besides I wouldn't exactly want to be left alone in this huge loft. I'm sure you could work out something with the guys. You know…so you don't have to be away from home for too long." I offer a smile, which he vaguely returns before getting off of the couch.

"I'm getting ahead of myself. I haven't even called the guys yet and I'm talking about hitting it big." A yawn stretches his mouth as he opens the door to his room, walking in slowly. I follow him hesitantly, just to say goodnight. It's only midnight, but I guess he doesn't feel like having another one of those talks that last for hours on end. I probably need the sleep as well.

"You going to sleep?" I peek in his doorway, catching a quick glimpse of him pulling his shirt over his head and jumping into bed. I turn away for some reason, feeling like I am betraying Mimi by looking at my best friend's naked torso. I've never had trouble before, and God knows I've seen Roger naked a few too many times. But why is this different?

"Yeah…I'll call the guys tomorrow. Then maybe we could get together later in the day. I'm getting a little sick of waking up at noon anyways." He sighs loudly, getting comfortable and motioning for me to shut the door. "Night, Mark."

"Goodnight." I shut the door silently, and then head to my own bedroom.

Before I fall asleep, I consider taking the necklace off. But what harm will it do to sleep with it on? I bury my hands underneath my pillow, pulling out that picture of Roger and I before stuffing it back quickly and shutting my eyes.

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Roger's POV

I wake up to a knock at the door, the sunlight beaming no place but my eyes. Seconds later I see a skinny figure standing beside my bed, a silhouette to me. After the gleaming and shadows have disappeared, Mimi emerges. I smile lightly and pull her down into bed with me. Her heels hit my shins roughly but I ignore the pain. I'm used to her playfully pressing them into my foot when I become a smart ass.

"Hey baby. What are you doing here so early?" I whisper in her ear, and she snuggles under my arm, taking in a deep breath.

"It's one Roger. I'd hardly call that early." She giggles, kissing me gently on the cheek. But I'm too angry to notice or even care.

"One! Shit! Why didn't Mark wake me up? Damn it! I wanted to call the guys early so we could meet up later today." I slip out from under the dancer without much care or placidness, then pull on my jeans and head out to the kitchen. She calls after me, but I'm too preoccupied to listen.

Mark sits at the counter, sipping his coffee and picking at some dirty spot on the metal top. I storm towards him, as if he's killed someone, grasping his shoulder and turning him swiftly on the stool.

"You were supposed to…wake me up." I hesitate when I see him scrunch back in fear, then decide that perhaps I am overreacting. His blue eyes stare back at me, apologizing for not being able to speak at the moment. "I just…I wanted to call the guys. You know? Like we were talking about last night?"

"Sorry. I just figured…I dunno. Call them now. It's only one. You guys used to be out 'til the early morning. I don't see the problem." He returns to his coffee, as I suddenly remember that Mimi is still in the bedroom.

"Yeah…I guess." I murmur before returning to the bedroom to face Mimi, sitting erectly with her arms across her chest and a pout on her face. I climb in bed once again, reaching to peck her on the cheek when she leans away from me. "Sorry Meems, I just…I was surprised that it was so late." Slowly my hand creeps to land on her thigh, fingers brushing lightly across the fabric of her tight skirt. I examine her revealing shirt, and pray that she is headed to work, even though that doesn't quite make sense considering what time of day it is.

"Who did you need to call so early?" There's a bite in her voice and she squirms away from my touch, and I finally give up, clasping my hands together on top of my stomach.

"Umm…the band. Look, Mimi. I meant to ask you. Do you think…you'd be all right with me maybe…getting together with the band again?" I grasp a piece of her hair softly, twirling it around my finger again and again and again, waiting for her answer. But all she does is sigh.

"Would that mean…I would see you even less?" She stares straight ahead, her jaw clenched, her fists closed tightly.

"I guess. What do you mean…_even_ less?" Both her anger and her statement confuse me. She suddenly seems so mad at me, and I don't even know what I've done wrong. Lately she has been irritable like this. Maybe it's me, doing something that I'm not aware of. But something is bothering her. She just won't tell me what.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Call the band if you want. You have fun with them, right?" She smiles, but I can see right through it. It's fake, it's false, it's small and sad.

"I haven't seen them in a long time…but yeah. Yeah, we did have fun. I just hope that they _want_ to start again." I press my palm to my face, trying to wipe away those years…those drug filled, sex filled, regret filled years. I did everything that shouldn't have been done to those guys. My friends. I pushed them away, pretended not to care when they kicked me out, when they told me I was screwing up my life. I should have listened to them. I should have stayed away from drugs, from such a dangerous lifestyle. But should has nothing to do with reality.

I dial the numbers quickly, faster than I thought I would remember them. I hear the ringing, and my heart pounding simultaneously. I'm starting over. I just hope that they too can forget about the past.

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Notes: Again, I am so sorry about not updating this sooner. And if the next chapter takes this long, you have the permission to hate me. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So…updates might be a little longer from now on seeing as…I haven't had the energy to write much these days. Sorry guys! But I will try to make the chapters as good as possible Thanks to all reviewers and I'm sorry for the horrible wait again. And anyone who reads my other story "Eyes of a Young Boy", I'm working on the next chapter, but give me some time.

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

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Roger's POV

I'm not the same person I was two years ago. Maybe I've learned things, maybe not. Maybe all that I learned is how to not fuck up my life. But lately, it doesn't seem like I've learned that at all. Mimi has been blatantly brushing me off ever since I told her about my band, telling me nothing is wrong, when I know it really is. I'm just thankful I have Mark to talk to about these things. Even if our talks only consist of me venting. As long as Mark is listening, he's helping.

By the time I actually get up enough courage to call the band, it's been two weeks since I first suggested it. I don't know what's been stopping me. My "busy" life, my laziness, or just the fact that I was afraid. Afraid that they wouldn't want me back. Afraid that something happened to them while I was mourning my losses, and I wasn't able to help them. They tried to support me when I was going through shit, but I didn't do enough for them. And after they told me I needed to stop doing drugs, that was the last of them. I decided I didn't need their shit.

…Even though that "shit" would have been the best thing to take at the moment. But I was too proud to accept help. Until Mark convinced me that I needed it. And that was at rock bottom. Now that I'm back and better, I'm ready to apologize for giving up on them so quickly.

"You calling them?" Mark watches me going for the phone, a rare occurrence these days. I don't really have anyone to call except Mimi, and when I want to see her I simply go down to her apartment. I pick up the phone, nodding in Mark's direction, as I begin to dial. My heart is pounding in my chest, and for a second I'm afraid that it's going to burst from my body. With every ring, I get closer and closer to throwing up. I don't remember being this nervous before.

"Hello?" Aaron's voice floats into my ear, and suddenly I'm at a loss for words.

"Hey..uhh…Aaron?" I take a precaution, to make sure I'm apologizing to my old bass player instead of some random stranger.

"Yeah, who is this?"

"Roger, man. How've you been doin'?" My eyes wander over to Mark, who is sitting at the counter, smiling giddily at me. Goddamn it, he's too happy for me. I silently chuckle at him, before turning away so he doesn't make me laugh in the middle of my sentences.

"Holy shit! Roger fuckin' Davis! Where the _hell_ have you been?" At first his outburst is appreciated, and I'm slightly relieved that he didn't hang up when I told him who it was. But then again, he's just surprised. I'll see what happens when we start to get into the past.

"Uhh…I'm living…in the loft with Mark. How are you doing?" I try to keep calm, keeping my deep breaths silent so Aaron can't tell how goddamn nervous I am.

"I'm uh…I'm fine. Just surprised that you called! How long's it been? Jesus. Seems like ages." Memories of gigs, girls, groupies and good times flash through my mind. Playing sets then taking advantage of the dozens of panting women who surged around us. I never seemed to mind it, until after I met April. Then it was just a temptation. Something that was trying to get me into trouble.

"I don't know man. Uhh…a few years. At least. But I was just wondering…if…umm…you might wanna try it again? You know, start up the band?" I close my eyes, waiting for the smallest sound to come from my former band mate. I never thought that one day, I would have to be begging my band to forgive me. But now that I think of it, I never apologized.

"Rog, look. I don't know if the guys'll wanna do that. I mean, Jimmy's off in LA, and Paul's got a wife and a baby on the way. And me…well…I don't know if I can forget about what happened." Aaron's words hit me hard, when I realize that I probably wouldn't forgive me either. I did some shitty things to my band, just for the drugs, for the money and for the fame. I thought I was doing what was best at the time, but now I can see that I was betraying all of them.

"I…I understand." I nod along, even though inside I feel about to burst. Mark creeps up behind me, lying his hand on my shoulder. I appreciate him trying to help me, but I shrug away his touch as fast as he can blink.

"I'm sorry man. It's just…been too long."

"No, no. It's…it's fine. I get it." I slam the phone down on the receiver, rubbing my temples roughly and trying to catch my breath. It feels as if someone's just punched me straight in the gut. My band was the last thing that I had. Now what is there do to? Continue my "song-writing"? Maybe after a few more years I'll finish another song.

Sure, I have Mimi, I have Mark, I have Collins and all of my other friends, but they are not something I can take pride in for myself. I want something just to myself, just for me. To make me feel good. And although my friends do make me feel good, they are not exactly a career or a guitar.

"What happened?" I remember that Mark is standing behind me, awaiting my first reaction after my sharp breathing has slowed. I turn around with a light chuckle, but the disappointed look on Mark's face remains. He's too used to my faking, my acts and my lies to believe any of it anymore. He's been through all of my stories just so I could go get drugs, but he never let me leave. Even if he wasn't positive I was in fact lying. He learned when not to trust me, and as degrading as it sounds, it makes me feel better in a way.

"They…they've moved on. I guess it took me too long to bounce back. While I was trying to become my old self, they were trying to forget about their old selves." My smile even _feels_ fake as it spreads across my lips, when I know very well that what I'd really like to do is scream and break things right about now.

"Rog…it's not your fault." Mark's hand levitates to my shoulder, almost attempting to pull me into a hug, but I harshly push him away.

"No…it IS my fault! I'm the one who did all the fucking drugs, and the one who would take any chance to screw over my friends just to get a deal on heroin, cocaine or any other fucking thing that turned my mind to shit!" I throw Mark's camera case into the door, and it slams wide open as Mark slowly backs away from me and into the kitchen. I know he's not scared, this has happened too many times before for him to be scared.

"Yeah. You did do all those fucked up things, and they won't forgive you…so who says you need them?" He sits down on a stool, crossing his arms over his chest and pressing his back against the counter.

"I can't start over Mark! This was always where I was trying to get…this is what…what I've been waiting for." The confusion settles in his face as I storm to my room, ignoring the pounding knock coming from the door.

My body practically throws itself on my bed, burying my face in my pillow and trying to drown out all negative thoughts in my mind. It's never worked before, and I doubt it's going to work now. All that occurs from this is simply more self-loathing. But that's what I'm used to.

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Mimi's POV

My feet climb the stairs quickly, almost jumping over two at a time. After Roger's band mates didn't answer the phone yesterday I decided to leave, telling him I had to go to work because there was no one covering my shift. In reality I didn't want to be there when he called again and this time got to talk to someone. I didn't want to be there when his band accepted him back, telling him that band practice would be strenuous and time consuming. I didn't want to be there as I watched my already absent boyfriend get sucked into another section of his life that he would love more than me.

I might just be paranoid. I might just be hallucinating Roger's hollow behavior. But yesterday I didn't feel like I was the one with the problem. I was almost positive that Roger was ignoring me. And maybe not even intentionally. Maybe he doesn't know that I'm feeling neglected. Then again he doesn't know that he's madly in love. And not with me.

The front door of Roger and Mark's loft is inches away from my nose now, and seconds later Mark is opening it after my loud and rough knocks. Mark's face is caked with regret and melancholy, and I'm already worried about Roger.

"Hey…is Roger here?" I shift in my boots, lifting up my right foot and brushing it up against my left calf. Mark frowns, dropping his head for a second before proceeding to gaze towards Roger's door.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's here. But he's locked up in his room."

"Can I come in? Is everything okay?" I lean my hand against the door, tipping my tiny body in towards the loft, trying to catch a glimpse of…Roger's closed door?

"I don't know. He's just discouraged. I think we're fine. You don't have to…"

"No, Mark it's no trouble. I can help." A huge smile spreads across my face as I desperately try to get into the loft that now seems like foreign territory to me. What happened to the times when I used to just come in through the window?

"Mimi, I think…he just needs one person right now. I got it under control. I've consoled him through many shitty times." Mark's face stays serious, a grim expression cemented onto his pale skin.

"All right." I sigh in defeat, backing away as Mark shuts the door almost in my face. I don't think I've ever felt so rejected in my life. Why does he have the right to slam the door in my face, telling me that I won't help Roger? Wasn't I the one who got him out of that fucking loft? Wasn't I the one who let him open his heart again? Wasn't I the one he fell in love with when he thought it was no longer possible?

And just because Mark was there through his heroin soaked years, he thinks that he has all rights over the rock star I once called my loving boyfriend.

As I stomp down each step individually, my anger grows. Who is Mark to think he's better than me? To think he loves Roger more than me? But then again, maybe he does. Roger sure does seem to love Mark more than me. It's a fact I would be positive of, if only I had some proof.

I've been there for Roger, helping him love again, helping him talk again, and helping him open up. Don't I deserve the same? Roger helped me get off drugs, which I'm seriously craving at the moment, but I feel like that's all he's ever done for me. And was it even for me? Was it just to prove that he could get someone off drugs? Because he couldn't stop April from killing herself, he needed this compensation?

Now I feel used.

And as my anger boils over, I begin to hesitate with each step down. After a few seconds of standing still on the seventh step, I head back upstairs towards the loft. I need to talk to Roger. I need to tell him how I feel. If not for my own sake then for his.

Once I reach the door, I refuse to knock, sliding it open myself with a little muscle and courage. The living room is empty, the sun shining through the gigantic windows and draping shadows on the torn up couch. I gaze around the loft, trying to find a trace of either men. My eyes scan the whole room, and then land on Roger's closed door. I take a deep breath, and head towards the wooden board, examining it like a dug up fossil.

I grasp the knob and turn it slowly, contemplating closing my eyes until the door is fully open. But I'm not even able to move my eyelids. And so they stay wide open. But when I see what's on the other side of the door, I really wish I would have shut my eyes and never opened them. There sit Mark and Roger on the floor, in a tender embrace. Roger shakes with sobs, his face buried in Mark's shoulder, nuzzled into his neck as his hands cling to the filmmakers back. Mark holds his roommate just as tightly, stroking his back with his fingers, trying to comfort as best he can.

I stand with my mouth cracked wide open as I watch my boyfriend and his "roommate" rock slowly back and forth. I listen to Roger's choked sobs, and Mark's whispered words to help. For a few seconds I try to say something, but all that comes out are breathy gasps and whimpers. After what seems like an eternity, Mark lifts his head to grab a tissue for his emotionally injured best friend, and spots me in the doorway.

"Mimi…I…I told you I didn't need…" He stumbles to stand, pressing his palm to the nightstand that rests next to him and glancing down at Roger for a split second. Roger clears his throat, wiping away his tears and fixing his hair.

"Yeah, I can tell you don't need me here. Jesus." I turn away with a scoff, bouncing on my feet. I really don't know what to think of this.

"Meems, I just found out that the band doesn't want me. Mark was trying to help and he didn't think that I needed to see more people."

"Oh, yeah. I'm only your girlfriend. I can understand why you wouldn't wanna see me!" I stomp into the room, plopping down on the floor against the wall, positioning myself as far away from the boys as possible.

"What's the problem? He was trying to help me!" Roger's voice starts to rise as I lay my arms across my chest, rolling my eyes at the teary eyed rocker.

"The problem is that I break in on you two cuddling! How the fuck am I supposed to react!" I can see Mark's eyes bug out when I say the word "cuddling", and I hold back a laugh as he proceeds to question me about it.

"_Cuddling_? What the hell do you mean? I was trying to help him!"

"Yeah, and Mimi I don't understand why the fuck you care so much!" Roger stands up, and I soon follow. I lean my forehead against the wall, telling myself that I'm right. I'm the victim. I'm the one who is being ignored, neglected. _Unloved._

"Because you two are fucking in love! You don't even see it, you're so blind. It's there every second of everyday, and you two idiots don't see it! Well I do. And it fucking hurts. It kills. So why don't you just acknowledge it, and do everyone a favor?" With that I run out of the room, leaving the two boys to sort out my confession. Or leaving them to make their own confessions. Either way, I'm now out of the picture.

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Notes: Again, I am soooo sorry for the long wait, but I hope this ending helps! And I can't promise anything, but I certainly hope I can finish the cliffhanger faster than this chapter came. Review and be loved by an idiot!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yeah, I don't really know what I could say for an apology pertaining to the length of time between updates, so I'll just write. Sorry. This story isn't dead, but just put to rest for a teensy bit of time. Who knows how long it will be before my next update. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

Mimi leaves the room in a funk, storming out like a child who has just been grounded. Roger and I stand, silent and awkward, comprehending what Mimi just said.

"_Because you two are fucking in love!"_

Love? Sure…I'd always considered loving Roger platonically, but I've never truly admitted to myself that I might be _in_ love with him. We've been friends for so long, we've shared everything, we've seen everything in each other. Just because Mimi saw it doesn't mean it's true. I just wish she hadn't said it out loud in a rage, leaving us to sort out her words now.

"Um…" Roger mumbles, attempting to start conversation from this tense silence.

"Yeah." I scoff with a slight laugh, hoping that this could all just disappear and go back to how things were.

"I don't really know…what to say." Roger sits down on the bed, facing me, yet avoiding eye contact in fear that it will make things even more uncomfortable.

"Me neither. Obviously she was just…upset. I mean she couldn't have meant that." I cross my arms over my chest, leaning my back against the wall and sighing heavily. Suddenly every move of Roger's body catches my attention. I've noticed his nervous quirks before, but never after I've been accused of loving him. He runs his fingers through his hair as if to comb out his troubles. He bites his nails more than I thought he did, which explains their ridiculous shortcomings.

Damn it. I need to stop thinking this way.

Roger is my friend. Nothing more.

But then again…he did give me his necklace. His _favorite_ necklace. And a picture of us when we first met. That's something that shows at least some sentiment.

"Yeah. Yeah, she was upset. We're not in…I mean she's just misinterpreting things. We're close, maybe she's not used to it. It freaked her out." He looks up at last, his olive green eyes focusing on the wall instead of mine, even though they are directed at the floor.

"Exactly. I mean, for best friends we're pretty close. But that doesn't mean we're…I guess I can see how she'd think that." I dodge the word love, just in case it will add more drama to this whole conversation.

"Yeah, I guess. But that doesn't mean it's true." I can see Roger blush, as hard as he tries to conceal it. Maybe he's thinking of all the clues, just like I am. The necklace, the constant time spent together, our lack of girlfriends in the past, the fact that we live together, and even sometimes when we are able to hold our conversations about nothing for longer than anyone expects. It might be true. Mimi might have just revealed something that we both never saw, but was there all along.

Nah, it can't be.

"No. Of course it's not true. I mean…if it were true I'm sure something would have happened. We have been living together for a long time. Surely a junkie from downstairs wouldn't be our first clue of it." Roger laughs uncomfortably, trying to hide the strain in his voice.

Now it all sounds like we are making up excuses. Excuses for why we can't possibly be in love, when we both know that it's possible we are.

"Yeah. It's not like we have a reason to be ashamed or anything. I mean…with all the things Collins has done, why wouldn't we do something about it before? It can't be true." My last statement is with hesitation, as inside, I'm having serious doubts about my feelings for Roger.

The feelings that were solid and not askew only moments ago.

Anger for Mimi fills my body. Why did she just drop this bombshell on us? She probably knew it would ruin our relationship, and then she'd have Roger back to herself. She's always been jealous of our friendship.

I'm probably overreacting. Mimi wouldn't be out to get us unless she saw due reason. Mimi wouldn't lie about something like this just to piss us off. Damn. This just makes me even more confused.

"Nope. Definitely not." He smiles lopsided, one of those smiles he has that doesn't really mean he wants to smile. It's fake. For pity. Forced.

"Well I'm gonna go eat something, I'm starved. If you wanna talk, I'll be in the kitchen." I offer a smile, a little more believable than Roger's, but fake nonetheless. I slowly stumble out into the kitchen, heading for the counters when I feel something pull me back, harshly jabbing my hip into the linoleum.

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Mimi's POV

I slide the door shut, my cold hands slipping against the metal as I make sure it closes tightly. _Finally_. Finally, I told them. They needed to know. They needed to know that they were hurting someone with all of this bullshit.

They deserve to be left in an uncomfortable funk. God knows they've left me in millions over the past year or so. I couldn't keep going on this way. I couldn't keep feeling like the odd man out. Like I was invisible, and Roger didn't love me. At least now I know that if he really doesn't love me, there is a reason.

He loves Mark.

Goddamn them. How could they do this to me? Roger just strung me along, making me believe he loved me. Mark didn't protest to this crappy behavior.

They are so oblivious.

I stomp down each stair, anger growing as I continue along. And then I stop.

Maybe I overreacted. They didn't really know what they were doing. And I could have told Roger how I was feeling. But instead I bottled it up, keeping it inside until it all exploded into one sentence.

_Because you two are fucking in love!_

I could have just told them calmly, this could have ended so much easier, with calm words and rational decisions. I could have handled that better. Much better. God, I'm so immature. Just because Roger was ignoring me, I felt the only thing I could do was to scream at them. They're just naïve. They haven't been aware of it. And love can do that sometimes. There are moments when you have to be naïve, otherwise there might be too much hurt.

Or maybe they just didn't want to see it. Roger didn't want to think that the person he had been searching for, or not searching for, was right in front of him all along. That he wasted all that time with April or with me, when it was Mark.

Now I have to go back. I have to tell them that I'm sorry, at least. I'm just afraid that they will be angry, and then I'll end up doing more damage. Then I'll just have more to regret. Goddamn it, I'm being so selfish. I just have to go back there. If not for me, then for Roger. To tell Roger that I'm sorry, and allow him to see something that will change his life. That is, if he hasn't seen it already.

I begin to walk back up the stairs, holding onto the railing for dear life, until I reach the familiar metal door once again. My hands grip the handle, pulling with all of my strength.

I stand, frozen, in the doorway, contemplating whether or not I should close the door once again. Oh…my God.

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Roger's POV

"Well I'm gonna go eat something, I'm starved. If you wanna talk, I'll be in the kitchen." Mark leaves my room slowly, making sure that I won't stop him. I don't. But I'm definitely considering it.

Fuck Mimi. This is just her way of trying to ruin the relationship I have going with someone other than her. I know she's been jealous of Mark and me for a long time. I could always tell, whenever we would talk, she would watch us closely, suspiciously. She never fucking trusted me. And now she's gone and made Mark awkward around me.

How could she think we are in love? Sure, we are around each other a lot, and Mark has helped me through some tough times, but is that love?

Sometimes, I do feel like there is a connection between Mark and I though. I feel like he is the only one I can talk to. The only one I can share things with without him disowning me. Especially while I was going through my entire addiction phase. He stayed when no one else would. He could listen to me even when I was being spectacularly selfish and horrible. I never repaid him or even thanked him for being so amazing during that time period, but I think we both know I am eternally grateful.

He's my best friend. He's sensitive and caring about other people, more than he should be. And he's the only one I can always patch things up with. He listens to me…he comforts me…

I stand up as fast as I can, thinking for some reason that Mark is leaving the loft and I have to catch up with him. Once I get through the door I spot him making his way to the kitchen. Obviously I didn't spend all that much time thinking. Here's my chance. I don't know if I should just talk to him, or take immediate action.

I choose the latter.

"Mark…" I whisper, grasping his shoulder pushing him into the counter and connecting our lips. There's some sort of desperation present as I grip his bottom lip between mine, and I feel his hands cling to both of my cheeks, pulling me closer. I can tell I'm not the only one who wanted this. Our bodies mesh, hips grinding, chests heaving and breath slightly non-existent. I pull harshly on the sides of his body, needing as much of him as I can possibly get. His fingers move up to run through my hair as my mouth opens to allow his tongue to run against mine.

We move almost chaotically, trying to grasp at any body part available. I push him harder against the counter until he decides to jump up, leaning his head forward to avoid breaking the kiss. I move between his legs and he wraps them around my body tightly, pressing me into the counter as tight as possible.

"Roger…?" A voice comes from the doorway, and Mark lets go of my mouth quickly when he spots Mimi out of the corner of his eye. Mark and I immediately freeze in each other's arms, aware of the dangerous situation we have just gotten ourselves into.

But it was a damn good kiss.

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A/N: There it is! Hope ya like it!


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